


Renegades

by authorallyy



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: -10 chapters, Alternate Universe - Prison, Drug Dealing, M/M, Murder, NSFW, Nightmares, Prison, Requested, Short, Smut, Stealing, Violence, broken glasses, escaping, prison riots, the escapists - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-04-30 18:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5175341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authorallyy/pseuds/authorallyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark was a Robin Hood of sorts, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. One run went bad, and he was shoved in a cell with his new best friend, a real criminal. Jack was the leader of dealing Septic, the new drug on the street that happened to explode with popularity. Tack on a few small things like robbery and murder, you can tally up a pretty long sentence. <br/>That's why he plans to escape, and Mark might be crazy enough to join him.</p><p>|| Kudos to RoosterBytes for requesting an Prison AU! I had fun writing this. c: ||</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shitstorm Of A First Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Roosterbytes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roosterbytes/gifts).



"I was helping people--hey, Jesus I can walk--" I growled as the two guards pushed me forward, one grabbing my arm to drag me down the hall roughly when I stopped to speak.

"Oh, the judge didn't believe you? I'm shocked, Fischbach. Here's your cell for the next year." One guard said, unlocking a thick door. It slid open heavily, before they both pushed me inside.

"Meet McLoughlin, your new cellmate."

And with that, they closed the door. Turning to the bunk beds, I spotted a younger man, lounging casually on the bottom bunk. He had a little smirk, probably from hearing me from down the hall.

"Fischbach, eh?" He spoke then, eyeing me and the extra prisoners uniform I held.

"Uh yeah, Mark Fischbach. " I set my clothes on the top bunk, as I silently claimed it.

"An' I'm Jack, Jack McLoughlin. But a little tip, we go by last names 'ere. No one cares about first names." I noticed the Irish accent he sported, making his sentence sound rougher then he probably meant it it be.

Though, I was in prison. He probably wants to scare me.

"Anyway, what are yeh in for?" He asked, filling the silence I gave him while lost in temporary thought.

"Stealing from the rich, giving back to the poor. And I got thrown in jail for it."

Jack just laughed lightly. "Yeh, the government doesn't act kindly to Robin Hood."

On the opposite wall to the bunks, was a small table and a shelf, along with an uncomfortable looking metal chair. I pulled it out and took a seat. "What about you, Jack?"

"I said we go by last names. It's McLoughlin. Let's see, a little bit of stealing, drug dealing, murder--" he then looked over to me, seeing my face pale. "--for self defense, I swear. But like the law cares."

I gulped thickly, nodding. "If you say so. " I tapped my foot nervously for a moment, before continuing. "So uh, drug dealing? How'd you get into that?"

Jack just adjusted, scooting back more, his shirt riding up just a little bit. "A friend was hardcore into makin' meth. I let him do his own thing, last thing I need is all that toxic shit explodin' in me face. Then he came to me with a new drug, he was all 'evil scientist' like that. He called it Septic. Asked if I'll be his runner, you know, go sell at parties and shit. Before I knew it I was runnin' the business."

"Hm. Was the drug lethal or something?" I asked.

"No idea. I never saw anyone take it, when it came to that I was jus' there to hand over a bag o' Septic and get cash back. All I know is people went crazy over it."  
As he spoke, the door slid open, hitting the wall harshly.

"Free period fellas, let's go."  Jack stood, nodding his head for me to follow. I did, passing the guard as he clicked at both of us, a counter in his hand. I stayed silent, waiting for everyone to be released. I couldn't help noticing how only a handful of people were wearing orange with me. We were vibrant against the grey that everyone else wore.

A bell went off, ringing through the metal walls. Jack gave me a push in my side, making me move forward as we all started filing down and out the door at the bottom level. I just followed the flow of prisoners, glancing back at Jack to make sure I didn't stray. If I was going to survive this place, I needed friends. Jack was as dangerous as any.

Though, he was smaller then me, and a lot of these guys were much bigger then me. And, along with size, a lot more threatening.

Everyone dispersed into groups, as I low key noticed most separated by color of skin. The handful of new inmates congregated together. I, on the other hand, let Jack lead me to a lone table.

"You don't have a group?"

Jack shook his head. "Don't need one."  I watched as he sat, facing the workout equipment. I also noticed how most who snagged weights were giving him a dirty look.

"Sit. Please." He ordered, tacking on a please. "You stand out enough as it is."

I didn't feel like sitting. It felt too.. Submissive. Instead I leaned on the table, crossing my arms. He just rolled his eyes.

I quickly realized I should have complied.

A guy from in front of us, setting down the weight he had before strutting over.

"Heh, look, fresh meat, a stray from the herd," he chuckled, his friend who followed laughing too.

"Lay off, Smithfield." Jack said, not looking at him or me.

"And what are you gunna do?" Smithfield asked, waving him off with his words.

"Talking about, New Meat, what are you in for? Because I'm in for bad things." He then crept closer to me, speaking in my face. "Like murder of pretty boys like you." My face paled. I could tell in the look in his eyes, he didn't regret it one bit. At least Jack tried covering himself.

  
"Scared pretty boy?" He prodded my shoulder with a thick finger.

"I said lay off," Jack said, louder and with more threat in his tone.

"What are you going to do, McLoughlin?" He repeated, turning to him.

"I don't want to have to kick yer arse again over a newbie," Jack replied, now looking at the Boulder of a man.

"Right, he's just fresh meat. What do you care?" Smithfield then chuckled and looked at me again. "You've already claimed him as your bitch?"

I blinked, processing what he said. "Wait-what?"

Jack stood, no where close to matching his height. "Go back to liftin' your dumbbells, meathead." Jack spat, keeping his eyes trained on Smithfield.

"Because you know, I'd take him off your hands, McLoughlin. My last bitch was getting worn out anyway."

His goon snatched me, just as Jack swung and got a good hit in. As I watched Smithfield recoil, blood dropped from his nose. Not just bleeding, but the bridge was broken open.

I took the now full blown fight everyone took and used it to my advantage, swinging at the guy who grabbed me. It definitely wasn't a hit like Jack's, but it toppled the smaller guy easy. I looked back to Jack, to just see a flurry of bodies. The people who came to watch were now in the middle of a full out brawl, and Jack was somewhere in the center.

The guards payed little attention to me as they ran to break the fights up. One though barked an order to go back to my cell, thinking I was an innocent bystander.   
But was Jack okay?

With a few others, I was led towards the door, as they started shoving the fighters to the door. Still brawling, I saw the guy I socked come up to me and shove me against the metal wall by the door.

"You got a lucky punch in, pretty boy." He then drew his arm back and started beating in my face, as I frantically tried prying his other arm from my shoulder. I took a month of martial arts in fourth grade, and now it decided to kick in. I blindly twisted his wrist and squeezed my foot between us, before shoving him away. My glasses were broken, blood dripped from my face, as I was left blind and unable to make my way through the angry crowd to the safety of my cell. I could barely see blurry figures, as I scooted away from the door to a less crowded spot. I didn't realize I wasn't breathing till I took a deep breath and my head started to throb in pain.

As the blurry mass of people got smaller, a dark figure walked up. A guard, who bent and asked if I was able to walk. Explaining my glasses, she started to lead me inside and down away from the cells, to what I guess was the hospital wing. She sat me down on a bed, and a woman in a lighter uniform walked over. Her dark hair pulled into a bun, she started asking me questions as she took my glasses from my hand.   
"It's not too bad, Fischbach. A few cuts, a black eye--"

"But I'm blind."

"Till.. We get your replacements from your insurance, yes." I could tell even blurry, she frowned. Might as well leave me to the dogs at this point. I really was fresh meat. Helpless, defenseless, fresh meat.

I sat still long enough for her to bandage me up. Getting the blood from my eyes did help my vision, but I still couldn't see a foot in front of my face.

"I'll have a guard assigned to you till next week, alright Fischbach?" She said, finishing up bandaging me.

"Jack--" I cleared my throat, and corrected myself. "--McLoughlin, I mean.. He's alright, right?"

"Why?"

"I'm uh, the reason the fight broke out. He protected me from this asshole, Smithfield I think."

"Let's see, McLoughlin is the little Irish guy right? Wow. Usually it's Smithfield putting people in here, not the opposite."

"So he's okay?"

"Well, no. He came in before you, he's being taken care of though. Don't worry, he'll be fine. What are you, sweet for him or something?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I feel at fault, is all. I share a cell with him, last thing I need is him beating on me thinking I put him here."

I watched her nods before she walked out of my vision. All I could tell was that there was a number of beds with people on them, getting treated and patched up. I assumed I was free to go, when a man stopped me.

"Sorry man, you have to say here till we get somebody to get you back to your cell without you getting jumped." He was in my bubble of vision. He was big, a little on the chubby side, with a blonde streak in his brown hair, matching the nurse. 

I let out a sigh, before taking a step back. Though before I could really mope a familiar shape of a man rounded the corner, slipping by the guard. "Jesus Mark, I thought yeh got out of the brawl."

It was Jack, and he had just came into my vision. He had to be worse off than me.

First thing I noticed, he was shirtless. Out of detail, but a eye sat on both of his hips, looking inward towards his happy trail. I also noticed the blob of a bandage at his chest.

His face was realistically fine. Flushed red from adrenaline, but fine. No blood, no black eyes as far as I could tell, just his chest.

"I'm fine, I can barely feel it-- what the hell happened to you?"

"The guy fookin' shanked me. He was stupid too, sliced me chest open instead of just actually shankin' me. Idiot." He grumbled. I just gave him a worried look, my face white from today's events. My first fucking day.

Before I could properly reply, the first nurse who bandaged me up called out to everyone.

"If you're not being worked on and you can walk, back to your cells. Warden's orders," she called, louder than I thought she could be. People started shuffling out, as Jack motioned for me to follow him.

"I uh, Jack?"

He looked back. "What?"

"I'm technically blind here. My glasses got smashed when that guy's goon jumped me."

He let out a sigh. "Dicks. Alright, stay close. I'll lead us back to the cell."

And he did, I followed closely as he led me through the inmates going to the hospital or their cells. Some were still fighting. I ended up setting a hand on his shoulder, making sure we didn't get separated.

I easily noticed how people just move out of Jack's way. He did just take up the biggest guy in the prison. Though, the few who sauntered into my clearer vision gave me dirty looks as I hid behind Jack.

There wasn't much I could do, being as close as I could get to blind. I just followed Jack, upstairs and down to our cell.

 


	2. First Name Basis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this on my iPod initially, so some pieces or shorter then others. I also didn't separate by chapters, so I'm just gonna go with the flow of things and post chunk-by-chunk.

I stared up into the white ceiling, now grey from lack of light. The little window opposite of the wall was just high enough to set soft rays of moonlight on me, and not my bunk mate.

"'ell of a first day." Mumbled Jack, breaking the silence.

"Hell of a first day," I breathed back, agreeing. "Thank you, by the way." I turned my head to the side, as if to look at him though he was below me.

"S'course. You can't let arseholes like that get to yeh. Especially and idiot like that."

I gulped lightly, looking back up to the ceiling. "You seemed to get really defensive about.. About the 'bitch' thing."

I heard him fidget in bed. "Don' think too much about it. I just didn' want to see you subjected t' that, you don' deserve it."

I fell quiet, and so did he. He was smaller then me, and I was a short guy. He shouldn't have to fight for me.

Though, I had a feeling of I brought it up, he'll refuse to let me fight my own battles.

"So Prison Bitch is a real thing that happens? I thought it was only in movies."

I earned I genuine laugh from the Irishman, before he replied.

"Yeh really thought it was jus' in the movies? Jesus, really Mark?" He laughed lightly.

As I was about to defend myself, I new thought popped in my mind. "Wait wait wait," I leaned over, looking down to the softly blurry figure of Jack. "Did you call me Mark? Because I remember you saying--"

"Oh shut it," Jack grumbled, tossing his arms over his head.

Even though he was blurry, he noticed how a few soft rays found his body too. He was still shirtless, a large white bandage still covering part of his chest. Little, blurry circles stood out on his hips.

I could only imagine what he looked like really, instead of piecing together what I could see.

"Hey, fine. I'll just continue calling you Jack, then." I stopped my staring and leaned back to lay down, as he groaned.

"Don' tell me you've been callin' me Jack around others, have you?"

"No- well, it slipped but I corrected myself when I asked if you were okay."

I physically felt the Irishman pause. "Why did you ask abou' me?"

"You were in the heart of it, and you were because of me. You got fucking shanked, Jack. Apparently I didn't worry for nothing."

Jack went quiet. I let out a little sigh, before I started rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes, careful of the painful black eye.

"If it means anythin', I worried a bit for you too. Two guards were tryin' to drag me to the hospital, but I broke away and got to the cell, hopin' you were there. When you weren' there I got a feelin' you got hurt."

"Well I'm okay. The worst of it is not being able to see arm's length away from me." I replied softly, in a reassuring way. "You got the worst of it."

I heard Jack scoff lightly. "It's just a cut. Smithfield is an idiot. I did more damage on him then he did on me, I made sure of it."

"I know, I know."

I listened to Jack let out a breathy sigh. "Get some sleep Mark."

I stretched out my arms again. "Goodnight."


	3. Prison: Free With Tainted Dreams

_Breathe in, breathe out._

_I hop the fence, take a sharp left to avoid the two guard dogs._

_Breathe in, breathe out._

_Up the ivy, to the third floor window. Unlock the window from the outside, slip in._

_Breathe in, breathe--_

_"Are you gonna do it or what?"_

_I looked back in the van, and saw my accomplice, Danny._

_"Uh, yeah." I breathed, letting the air in my lungs go. "Just going over the plan in my head._

_"You're nervous. We'll be okay buddy, the place is just a little more heavily guarded." Danny reached out and set a hand on my shoulder. "We've done this a hundred times before."_

_I nodded softly, before slipping a dark colored beanie over my head. "Let's do this."_

_With that I slipped out of the van and adjusted the earpiece._

_"Go for it, man." I heard Danny buzz in my ear._

_I started walking down the sidewalk, watching in front of me as I came up to the high, stone wall. I hopped into the bushes before the guard could see me, making sure I found a clear enough spot to scale the rock wall. Once over, I kneeled for a moment, spotting two Dobermans sleeping at the front door. Thankfully I was hidden by the trees, making it easy to slip by unnoticed._

_I made it around  the building and made a short dash to the ivy against the wall, the branches thick enough to climb._

_"Third window," buzzed Danny, almost making me jump out of my skin. Shaking it off I climbed up the ivy easily, and pulled out a little pocket knife. Sliding it between the two panes of glass, I unlocked the window._

_Slipping into the small window, I was welcomed not by the small sitting room I expected, but a jail cell. Smithfield stood in the center of the room, before giving me a sideways grin and walking forward._

_"What the hell?" As I spoke, my heart rate quickened, as he closed in on me. His hands grabbed my wrists, holding them above my head. Fighting against him, pointless. He was as strong as a bull. He then leaned into my ear._

_"I'm gonna make you my bitch," he growled as my breath hitched._

 

I sat up in bed, my chest throbbing painfully. My heart felt like it was in my throat.

I blinked rapidly, suddenly remembering I didn't have my glasses to steady my vision. Beside me, standing in his bunk to look at me, was Jack. "Mark?"

I looked away and ran my hands through my hair. "I'm fine," I croaked out, as I finally felt the weight of his hand on my thigh when he pulled it away.

"Good, yeh better. You were squirmin' in your sleep, had to wake you up for roll anyway." Jack replied, worry present in his voice. I slipped out of the scratchy covers and nimbly made my way down to the ground, only to be yanked by Jack to just step out the open cell door.

Jack was still shirtless from the night before, though once stepping out a lot of guys were shirtless. I, was not one of them.

I slept in the tank top that was issued with the bright orange outfit, along with a few heavily tattooed Latinos down the hall. I kept my eyes forward, not lingering on any face for too long.

Jack was the exception. He leaned on the wall, waiting as a guard walked by, counter in hand. I couldn't help feeling the aura Jack gave off. He was feared to an extent, whoever didn't wanted to challenge him.

I guess I could call myself the exception. I didn't fear him, not really. Knowing that his anger was never pointed at me-- for now, anyways-- made him seem more human. He was just making his way in jail in one piece.

The guard counted for us both, and we stepped back inside. I took the opportunity to put on the ugly orange shirt, the second one, for the first was bloodied up. Jack stayed shirtless, as he peaked under the bandage.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, straightening the shirt on my body. He looked back to me, giving me a little grunt before sticking the medical tape back down.

"A little. Wearing a shirt doesn' help, makes the whole plaster burn. " he made sure the tape was all down, before fully turning to me. "Cmon, breakfast."

With that, he beckoned me with two fingers, a she turned to walk out the door, wanting me to follow. I did, staying on his heels as we went down to the ground floor.


	4. Seeing-Eye Dog Wants to Escape

The day was long, mostly showing Mark how a normal day works here. I happily noticed Smithfield was nowhere to be seen, making it obvious he was in Solitary for slicing me up. Mark seemed relieved too, when I told him.  

I tried to act sour as I led Mark everywhere, having to be his seeing eye dog till who knows when. I couldn't help through to enjoy it, especially when feeling his fingertips press lightly into my back when I made a sudden stop, or feeling his warm hand rest on my shoulder when I led him during busier blocks like mealtimes.   
We both agreed to stay in during free period, out in the yard. Though any troublemakers from the fight were in Solitary, whoever was left still wasn't be in our best books.

I thankfully got off easy. After Smithfield sliced me I stepped back, letting a guard catch my weight. Before he could finish me off guards had him on the floor, easy. Playing innocent, I said I was just defending myself when I punched him, seeing he had a razor.

Mark didn't need to know the details. He asked throughout the day, wondering how roughed up he was before he pulled a knife. He gave me too much credit, really. Yeah, I learned the hard way how to kick ass, but I only did it for who was special.

And from the moment Mark became my cellmate, I deemed him special.

And Mark was. He was fragile in a way, but could take care of himself. I got a glimpse of him taking Smithfield's friend to the floor. I had honestly hoped he got out of the brawl fine. Finding him beaten blue in the hospital made a knot grow in my stomach. Even now, as I watched Mark pull his shirt off before sitting at the desk, I'm not sure if this knot in my stomach was anger or fear. Anger forwards whoever did that to him, or fear.. Fear of him getting hurt again.

"What's this?" Mark asked quietly, because curfew already passed. He held up a sheet, ripped from the little notebook I bought from commissary. The paper was covered in scribbles, my writing barely readable. It didn't help that what I wrote was in a code only I knew.

"It's eh," I bit my lip. "Notes. Scribbles."

"Looks like code," he said, studying it. "Caesars shift, right?"

I just gaped at him, shocked that he read through it easily.

"How- how the hell..?"

I watched him smile. " I took engineering for a few years in college. I had a class dedicated to coding, and we went over written code for a semester."

"Then yeh know what it is then?" I grumbled, sitting back at the lumpy pillows. He studied it more, mumbling to himself about codes. I watched as he took the pen and dribbled in the alphabet, and tried decoding it.

"Something about the vents? Your writing sucks, Jack."

"I did it on purpose, yeh idiot." He looked up, as I motioned him over to the bed. I sat up, leaving him room to join me.

"I guess there's no need to hide it now," I said, before pointing out scrambled words. "D-r-b-z-o-d O-k-z-m. _Escape plan_."

"You're.. Planning an escape?" Mark eyeing me Incredulously. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not. If I get caught even kiddin' about escape, I'm gone to solitary."

Mark sat back, looking between me and the paper. "I never took you for the escapee type, Jack."

"It wouldn' work anyway. Can't blame me for thinkin' about it." I replied, snatching the paper and crumpling it.

"Hey wait, you never know. You might have something here." He pulled the paper from my hands and straightened it out. Pulling it close to his face, he figured out what I wrote.

"Uh, vents go all over, some directions, drop down in the loading docks, out the ripped fence hidden by bush. Right? I mean, that's something, definitely." He said, decoding it slowly.

"Alright yeh, that was the basis of the plan. The vents go all over the place, I've scouted out a route that leads straight to the outside."

"And the rip in the fence?"

"I got into a fight, and was assigned clean up detail on the edges of the prison. I found it, but didn't draw attention to it. As long as it's still there, that's my way out."

Mark let out a little grunt of approval. "Seems a little too easy, but if it works, good luck to you." Mark then stood, setting the paper back on the desk before stretching. I watched as he climbed to the second bunk and let out a sigh.

"Mark?"

He hummed in reply, a he shuffled to get under the scratchy blankets.

"Escape with me."


	5. Duuude

The plan was just about crazy enough to work.

Last night I found myself agreeing to join Jack in escaping, for no better reason then I didn't want to deal with the next year here without him. He seemed almost relieved when I agreed. Not like I'd tell anyone if he escaped without me, and I felt like he knew it.

I joined him in the hospital, so his bandages could be changed. The pink haired nurse, who went by Commander, peeled the white bandage back, showing the deep cut.

I frowned as I saw it. It was raised, the cut fluorescent pink against his normally pale skin. Commander put some cream on it, before  bandaging him up.

Jack sat, emotionless as she did so. He had his head turned away from the cut, to give her maximum space to check it out And re-bandage it.

"Ah, Fischbach. I just placed your order for new glasses, you should get them by the end of the week."

From down the rows of beds and curtains, the first nurse walked up. Behind her sauntered a somewhat familiar figure of the man who stopped me.

I just nodded softly, as she stopped to prod at the little bandages littering the side of my face. "You're bandages are fine, what are you doing here?"

"My seeing-eye-dog needed a bandage change." I motioned to Jack, who gave me a chastising look.

The dark haired nurse just laughed lightly.

"Well okay. I don't want to see much of your face, so stay out of trouble, Fischbach. You too, McLoughlin. "

Although it sounded like an order, there was a sense of 'I care enough to to not want to see you get hurt' in her voice before her and who I could guess was the hospital's bodyguard walked off to the other cubicles.

"Alright, there's your clean bandage. Nothing too strenuous, okay? I don't want it to open up again." Jack just nodded as Commander spoke, before she walked past me to follow the other two.

"I looked back to Jack. "Where to now?"

"It's free period," he grunted lightly, hopping off the table. "And we have plans to make."

  
  
The rest of the day was that, writing down plans in our code, speaking hushedly, figuring out what our plan was. We had till at least Friday to figure it out, once I got my glasses we could be ready to escape. The plan was pretty close to Jack's original plan, though we need to make adjustments. For one, having two people escape. Two, that the fence lining the prison wasn't just high and covered in barbed wire, it was electrified now, too.

We also had to prepare if someone fixed the hole in the fence. Jack easily was able to haggle two files out of one of the black market-esque merchants at lunch. Hopefully, that could get us a big enough hole to slide through.

I was going over the plan a few hundred times. I was a bit paranoid about it, I never had to break out of someplace, only into. It wasn't as easily as unlocking a door or window and slipping out. Most of the fences I climbed weren't electrified with barbed wire. And even then, I had professional wire cutters at my disposal and a security system tech disabling all that for me.

Letting out a soft sigh, I looked up to the dark grey ceiling. It was the middle of the night, and my mind was to preoccupied with the plan to sleep. 

I barely noticed it at first, but soon the two story bed was shaking. I blinked a little, my mind clearing. Was Jack jacking it while I was here? _Duuude._

I hated to spoil the fun, but if I had any hope to sleep I had to stop him. Rolling over, I peered down to him, read to blurt out that he was rocking the whole bunk, but held my tongue.

No, he wasn't jacking off. Focusing, I could tell his face was distorted as if in pain, his body convulsing periodically as if he was trying to fend off something dangerous.

"Jack?" I spoke, my voice deep and raw from not speaking for so long. He didn't acknowledge me, other then he began to whimper through his teeth.

I slipped off my bunk, down to the cold, concrete floor, and squatted next to Jacks bunk. "Hey, buddy.." I hesitantly shook his shoulder, only to have the adjoining arm snap out and hit my chest.

Rubbing my chest lightly and letting out an audible _ow_ , I stood and sat on the bed. Now not in the line of attack, and set my hand on his good shoulder. I shook him again, a little more forcibly to wake him up.

"Jack, wake up," I repeated a few times, careful not to get too loud. Apparently, I got through to him and he shot up, his forehead drenched in sweat. I caught him in my arms, as he promptly gripped at my shirt.  

I think the weirdest part is he started cursing--I could only guess, really--in Irish.

Breathlessly, he escaped the nightmare. He didn't loosen his grip only shirt, though.

"J-Jesus," he groaned out after a moment, catching his breath.

"Hey hey, you're okay. It was a nightmare, whatever it was."

"Daithi, the idiot, his lab blew an'.. An' you were there for some odd fookin' reason."

"I uh- what?" I blinked at him a he just set his forehead on my shoulder tiredly. He must've been still out of it.

"I ran in, hopin' to save either one of yeh, an'.. an'.." He gulped dryly.

"Sh, hey, it's fine. You're okay, I'm okay, whoever your friend is he's probably fine too." I hopefully reassured, as I started to move away.

Jack didn't let me get too far.

"Mark?" He had lifted his head, his eyes wide with panic, maybe fear. "I-I.. I don' wanna be by myself again.."

I felt my cheeks flush. "A-are you sure?"

He gulped again, before nodding haphazardly.

"Alright," my voice softened, and he began to lay back down, as if in pain. I crawled in beside him hesitantly, letting him curl into my chest. I wrapped an arm around him, as if I was protecting him. 

 

We fell asleep quite easy, to my surprise. It was shockingly nice having Jack in my arms. It was nice feeling his heartbeat. Even before I got arrested, the closest times I got to feel the warmth of another person was when Danny and I couldn't afford a two bed hotel. Feeling Jack breath in and out, feeling his breath on the patch of skin on my chest exposed by my shirt, it lulled me to sleep easily.

 


	6. Crazy Inner Monologues

Last night was a blur. A sickening blur.

I somehow fell asleep early, only to be hit with a terrifying dream. I barely remembered it when I woke up, I was only left with a furious heartbeat and.. The imagery of Mark getting caught in a meth explosion.

There was also another memory, a soft one, a concerned look on Mark’s face.

Then it hit me like , the warm log of a man was laying beside me.

I held my breath and went stiff. Had I asked him to stay in the bottom bunk with me?

Yes.

Mark was breathing evenly, asleep soundly with an arm slack across my side. His mouth sat slack, slightly open. His face was relaxed, an oddly new expression from the American.

Was I stiff? My body had relaxed naturally as I watched the other slumbering man for a moment. Maybe I did want this. Half-asleep, half-panicked me certainly did. Mark started to move, his arm tightening around me as he stretched. I fluttered my eyes closed, making it seem like I wasn't watching my bunk mate sleep.

"Oh, oh no." I heard him mumble quietly. "You better not hit me for trying to wake you up this time.. " he pulled away, before shaking my shoulder gently. I pretended to stir, stretching too as I blinked open my eyes.

The look I gave him must have put him off, because he moved away. "Morning. You uh, had a nightmare last night."

I huffed a sigh. "Sorry," I mumbled, sitting up with him as he turned to set his feet on the floor.

He let out a soft chuckle. "I didn't mind. I think I got better sleep on the bottom bunk then all by myself on the top." He reassured, ruffling his messy bed head as he woke himself up.

I smiled softly at his back. I'm damn glad I wasn't the only one.

 

We had two days to kill before Mark got his glasses. Today, during work period, I caught a glimpse at the spot at the fence where the hole should be. It looked as pristine and untouched as I found it, hopefully a good sign. Telling Mark at lunch, a small grin appeared on his face.

We were riding in good signs. The night we figured out our plan, Mark--the heavier of us two-- was able to climb up into the vent and the vent supported him. It was a good sign, our escape route worked. Mark was less pessimistic about it, I in the other hand made sure to point out every detail that could go wrong, the farther we got into building this now very real plan. 

Mark was quick to prove any of my doubts wrong. Guards catching us mid escape? We knew the routes, we could dodge them easy. The trucks that patrol the outer fence? There's plenty of brush to hide in. He had a solution for everything, and I wasn't sure if it made me feet better or not. Time flew by. The last two days felt like hours, just getting to mandatory blocks and any free time, was spent in the cell  easing my mind about the plan. I didn't let Mark know about the dreams, not after the last one he woke me from. Meth explosions, loosing my best friend, and _Sam_ \-- I felt like I was gonna puke thinking about it.

Thankfully Mark was none the wiser. I knew how to hide it before, now it was no different. Even if he was beside me in the small bottom bunk I still could keep it together well enough to go unnoticed. Mark was the more laid back of the two of us, so I didn't want to be the negative, worrisome bastard more then I couldn't help to be. It's not really my fault, I did have my reasons to be.

He could make me smile though. His jokes were cheesy and really bad but.. I needed them. Something to smile at, anything really, was nice when my mind wandered to not-so-fond memories. It helped that he had an extremely contagious laugh. Oh, the many forms of his laugh- yeah I threw a few stupid jokes his way too. Sometimes as he went from a playful giggle to a full laugh, it had me smiling along just for that.

Thinking about, here I was waiting for Berlow to get his new glasses. Hanson, her husband and guard for the Hospital wing, was looming protectively as we waited. I remember the first time I was in here all too vividly. First prison riot of my stay, then I didn't really know how to fight. Broke three ribs, my nose was fractured, and Berlow was pretty convinced I had a concussion. I spent a good week in here, and I was moments away from spending another. Smithfield put me there, and because of a slurred, snide comment he was jumping on me to beat my face in some more.

Though, he didn't get that far.

Hanson didn't really look like the fighter type, I mean he is a big guy but I only realized how well he can through his weight around when he stopped the biggest guy in prison mid-rage. He was definitely the strong but silent type, and it worked well for a prison guard position. Before I could process what happened, Hanson had him on the floor and ready to just send him to solitary, if he needed medical attention or not.

Again for the hundredth time this morning, my mind came back to the escape. It was tonight, do or die. Things could go wrong, deathly wrong, and I didn't like the chances. A week ago I wasn't even sure if I wanted to do this, I wasn't honestly planing to. 

I suddenly realized Mark was staring at me. Probably just as lost in thought as I am. I saw Berlow walk up the line of beds, and I took a deep breath. 

First on our to-do list, earn the ability to see. _Lets just see how the rest of today goes._


	7. Four-Eyes Asks The Wrong Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was actually closer to the end of the chapter then I thought. One more chapter? a really long one maybe?

I sat at the infirmary, waiting for Barlow to grab my glasses as I watched Jack tap his foot. He was anxious, tonight was the night. It honestly crept on us, the week was short. I on the other hand, couldn't wait.

Well, I couldn't wait to get my vision back. Though I had slowly learned to function without, having glasses again would ease the headaches that came with straining my eyes.

I also couldn't wait to actually see Jack again. The world and my environment yeah, but Jack was the center of my life here. Escaping with him. Napping with him. Easing his hyperactive mind into the night with logical explanations to all his concerns.

And tonight, would be the hardest.

Tonight we would hit off our plan, and escape from prison. Okay yeah, there wasn't much for me out there to escape to, but Jack. I really didn't want to be left here when the big guy, Smithfield, gets out of solitary without my Irish badass.

"Alright Mark, here they are." Berlow rounded the corner with a fresh pair of glasses, before handing them to me. I took no hesitation to slip them on.  
They felt snugger than my last pair. They sure as hell were cleaner than the last pair, less scratches then they had. Everything was so clear, it was almost painful.

First Berlow, with her now clear appearance. Black hair put back, with a matching blonde streak with the guard, her eyes strikingly green. Taking in what was closest to me, I then honed in on the sly-smiling bunk mate behind her. His eyes, his hair, how his shirt hung lopsidedly to keep less pressure on his bandaged shoulder, it was all so crisp and clear. It was different then what I had been growing used to, definitely.

"Alright, c'mon four eyes. We gotta get ready for roll." He shot me a larger smile and turned, making me follow. Hopping off the table I got my first clear glimpse of the guard that seemed to hover around Barlow. He had more handsome features then my blurry vision before let on, though his heavy set eyes hand me dart to stay with Jack quicker than normal.

I almost reached out for Jack's shoulder, before realizing I didn't need to anymore. That then had Jack glancing back at me so he knew I didn't get caught in the crowd of inmates as everyone loitered outside their cell.

I was almost charmed at the thought. He sure did put out a tough appearance but I knew him for what he really is. Considerate, worrisome, and a smart ass.

Yeah, he was a smart ass. At first I thought it was just a cover for his more softer side, but soon realised his clever comebacks were ALL him. Of course I was no better, shooting them back just as quickly.

“Happy to have your eyesight back?” Jack asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“Definitely, clear vision is seriously something I was missing.”

“I’d think so, four eyes.” Jacks playful smile told me that he was just poking fun. The guard, who now was clear for the first time as I got here, eyed me oddly. I couldn't look that different with glasses.

After everyone was accounted for, we returned to our little cell. As Jack fell on the bottom bunk, I sat at the desk. spying Jack, a clear figure for the first time in days, a question arises in my head.

“Who was Sam?”

* * *

 

I was going to knock out a nap, maybe just relax a little and try not to worry about tonight, but just as we sat Mark blurted the last thing I thought he’d ask. It was such an innocent question, but it made Jack turn pale, paler than he already was. Sam was a forbidden topic, everyone knew that… everyone but Mark.

“Ah, shit..” I breathed, sitting up. The pain in my chest came back.

“Jack?” I barely saw Mark stand and come over to try to help, but I waved him off. This wasn't a physical pain, not that I knew of, anyway. “I-I’m sorry I asked, it’s just you said his name in your sleep and..”

“He’s my son,” I blurted, cutting him off. Looking up to my bunk mate as I held my chest as if it would fall into pieces, I watched the shock run across his face. He asked, I reacted, and I really didn't feel like snapping at him for asking when my chest felt like it was slowly collapsing. 

“You have a son?”

I nodded lightly. turning to sit properly on the bed, I sat in a position that made it easier to breath. “A uh, ex-girlfriend of mine dropped him at my doorstep, yelling that I knocked her up and refused to take care of him.”

I glanced up to him again, the shock residing. “We had broken up because she cheated on me. It could have been the other guys but... I knew Sam was mine. He had my eyes.” I gulped thickly, memories flooding my mind like tears. “I took him in, I don' think I ever had the thought of giving him up for adoption or something. Yeah, a Drug Lord's son wasn’t the best environment to grow up into but hell, he was loved and I made sure of it.”

“He was three years old when the shit hit the fan. The S.W.A.T. didn’ just break in and take me away, they had a full shoot out and took out anyone I had to guard me n’ Sam. He.. he got hit. I didn' know for sure till my lawyer told me he was in the hospital, to get me to stop talking 'bout it. I was so worried, it made me sick. I.. I don' know if he survived. They told me even if he did I wouldn' be able to see him when I got out.”

I was crying before I really realized it. I felt Mark's arms around me comfortingly before I felt the wetness on my cheeks. I leaned into the American, carelessly wiping at my eyes. Crying in front of him, using him for comfort again, it was stupid of me. Stupid of me to share this with him. But, I still couldn't help but to hide my face in his shoulder as he started to rub circles into my back comfortingly.

“I jus’ wanna see him... make sure he’s okay and happy. If he is, I’d turn myself back in. It’s the only reason why I wanted to escape.”

Mark made a noise of reassurance, hugging me tighter. “We’ll get out, and find him. I bet he’s fine, and we’ll see it ourselves, I promise you.”

 


	8. Things Never Go As Planned

"Alright, least check before lights out and they lock us in." He looked at me pointedly. "What's first?"

"Getting in the vents and getting through them quietly." I repeated dully, my head filled with too many thoughts to focus on what we've been circling around for days.

"You okay?" He let his arms fall, the sheet of our code in his hands.

"No." I dug the heels in my eyes almost in frustration.

"Hey, we'll get through it. Well get out of here and find your son."

"Well I know, just--" from outside the cell, what sounded like glass shattering echoed throughout the brick and metal prison. We both sat up, I having the confidence to peek out, to see what happened.

Though before I could see the security glass broken, inmates passed me, all with weapons. They squished down the stairwell, As the guards came out to control what happened.

"McLoughlin, Fischbach,  grab a shank and come on. We're rioting against those asshole guards." Shouted one, as inmates started yelling downstairs. They tossed two shivs on the empty bottom bed and ran to join everyone.

"Jack?"

My heart started to race, but not in excitement. In horror. "Grab the shanks, we gotta move."

"Why? What the hell is going on-" he appeared beside me, holding out one of the shivs. "Riot? Another one?"

"The one when you got here wasn't a riot, just a big fight. Riots are when we attack guards, people working for the prison, etc. Our best bet out of here is if we follow like we're in on it and sneak off when no one's looking."

"Why not stay in our cell?" I took my shiv as we spoke.

"It's happened before. Someone will come up and do checks, anyone not participating gets beaten or worse, killed. Cmon."

I grabbed his free hand and pulled him from the cell, following around the end of the line of inmates. Downstairs, was a literal hell. Bodies flailed, people were yelling angrily or in pain, some were stained red while others curled in as they got beaten. A handful of inmates were being tasered, which did little to lessen the numbers against the handful of guards.

As we walked down the stairwell I spotted the hospital doors close, Hanson being the human door block. Good. The girls and the injured shouldn't be tossed into this.

We made it to the end of the stairs and moved to the edge of the rioting inmates. Some, were attacking each other, probably from pent up emotion from being locked up. There's not enough to guard to go around.

I gripped my shiv. I didn't need this, I was already stressed out about escaping, now I have to make sure Mark and I get out alive so we could escape. Hell, now security would be so chaotic--

My thoughts were interrupted as shots rang out. I froze, my body shutting down. Images flashed in front of me. The old home, Daithi, Sam.. then the gunshots. Memories echoed in my head like how the sound echoed around us.

"Jack?" Mark's voice was suddenly distant, though I felt present. I felt Mark beside me, I felt--

My hands pushing Sam behind me. I felt myself reaching for my own pistol, to protect him, before he ran out to hide behind one of the couches. Bullets flew by us, and I started shouting his name, just as blood started to pool behind the couch. Bodies littered the well-furnished house, blood oozing out to the carpet. Even as I flailed to get free they managed to handcuff me, but didn't stop me from shouting at the top of my lungs.

My body was jerked to the side, as I finally realized I was moving. My body was on autopilot as I remembered the memory that haunted me and my dreams.  
I started to realize where I was. Mark was dragging me along some white hall, shiv long ditched as he struggled to move us both. Glass littered the floor, which I realized as I almost face planted, my body suddenly letting my brain take control.

The riot alarms went from dull, soft beat to a blaring noise that made my head hurt. My eyes met the back of Mark's head.

"Mark?" I squeaked, as we rounded the corner, the main doors wide open. Some inmates probably broke the locks and left them wide open.

He turned to look at me, relief in his eyes. He pulled me forward, and wrapped an arm under mine, to support me. I wrapped an arm around his neck, both giving each other support as we made a final dash for the door. The security alarms blared even louder as we passed the metal detector, and then we passed the door.  
The air was crisp, cold as the sun finally set behind the valley mountains. Miles in each direction, was desert. The closest town was Pasadena, which lies on the outskirts of LA. The plan was to try calling Mark's friend--Danny, I think--to get us from there.

After a while, I pulled away to show I could walk. Mark still gave me a concerned look.

"You're sure you're okay?"

"I'll be peachy once we get to town." I breathed, ignoring the memories fluttering in the back of my mind. I focused on my feet as we walked, between dodging into bushes when cars zoomed down the road, trying to suppress it all. The gunshots, it brought it all back. It felt like a raw wound in my chest again. I couldn't just sew it up with a tattoo this time, I'd be lucky to hop down to a corner store when we get into hiding.

By midnight, we had made it to the outskirts of LA. Some dude smoking a cigarette was nice enough to give us his change, enough for a call for Danny. By the time he stomped on the butt and climbed back in his car, we were dialing.

"Danny?"

I heard a new voice buzz on the on the other end. " _Holy hell, Mark?_ "

Mark quickly explained the riot, escaping with me, and asked for a ride. I heard Danny comply, that he'll be here in a half hour.

While we waited, we stayed in the shadows. Thankfully Mark wasn't in bright orange anymore, he had transitioned to plain grey like the rest of us. The sweats and white tees were inconspicuous enough, with no logo or writing on them saying we were inmates. Those, were on the button ups we decided to leave in our cell.

When a black and chrome van pulled into the parking lot, Mark snatched my hand and pulled me into the back, before this Danny character--who was camouflaged by a bush of curly brown hair--pulled out and went on our way.

The back seat was taken out, replaced by a wall of computer things that I didn't comprehend. A stack of thick pillows was stuffed in the little cubby like desk area, only to be torn out as Mark pulled two for us to sit on instead of the poorly carpeted floor.

I mindlessly rubbed at the scab of a cut that was under my plaster. Each time we hit a bump, my shoulder banged against the metal sides of the van, making it ache in retaliation.

"Your shoulder okay?" I looked up to meet eyes with Danny, who glanced back at us at a stoplight. He looked forward again as the light turned green, his face hidden again by his hair.

"M'fine," I said, clearing my throat.

"What about you, Marky?"

I watched Mark roll his eyes. He was leaned against the desk.

"A little beat up, but it's nothing new. I'm on the downhill side of healing."

"Good. How the hell did you guys escape? I mean, I was just a call away and I would've helped. You know, send you a file in a cake or something."  
I glanced at Mark, as he smiled lightly at his friends comment. He caught my eyes and he went to speak. He explained the riot, and how the doors were wide open. Thankfully, leaving out how I froze on him.

For the rest of the ride, we shared the week we had in jail. Well, the week Mark had. The months I was in beforehand didn't count. Finally, we stopped in one of the warehouses littering LA. We drove into a delivery truck drop off zone and parked inside, before Danny closed the door via remote in the glove-box. We stepped out, and I glanced around the place.

Warehouse turned bachelor pad, the ground floor had been turned into an open plan living room and kitchen. There was an eerily familiar metal staircase that went up to a second for with doors to a handful of rooms, then a walkway to another line of rooms.

"Danny, who the hell-"

Out of one of the doors emerged a salt and pepper haired man, who looked down at us with a angry expression.

"Oh! Brian, this is Mark and uh, his friend. Mark and friend, Brian." Danny introduced, locking up the van.

"Who is Brian and why is he in our safe house," Mark questioned giving Danny an unsure look.

"Remember that guy who was a physicist and wanted to help with our little missions? After you got caught, he kinda showed up wanting to help. He also kinda had no where to stay, and we kinda hooked up a few times."

The look Mark gave him made Danny pale. "Hey, but he's cool."

As Brian walked down the stairs, his face flashed recognition of Marks name, as if Danny had talked about him. I touched Mark's arm, as he let out a sigh, shaking his head. "I guess I'm no better, this is Jack, by the way." Mark and Brian met hands and shook, as he flashed a smile that wasn't that much better to his resting face. I shook his hand too, mostly for courtesy. Suddenly, I felt way out of place.  
Crossing my arms, Brian spoke. " It's late. We got a long day of forging paperwork and faking ids and all that tomorrow, you two will need sleep."

Saying goodnight, they both went upstairs and retired to the same room. Not moving at first, Mark pulled my hand from my crossed arms and led me up to his room.

For the first time since we got out, I felt like we actually escaped. Maybe it was how the whole space didn't smell like cheap floor cleaner and sweat, or the fact that Mark seemed to relax naturally from being home. This was his home, and I could feel how he was happy to be back.

He opened a door to reveal a room that was oddly just what I expected. There was a half made bed pressed against the wall, on another was a desk with a beast of a computer hooked up to it, and a shelf with a plethora of games. The walls were bare, besides a large poster of some nebula or something, with a quote in small lettering at the bottom by Neil Degrasse Tyson. Across from the foot of the bed was a waist high bookcase with plenty books and a handful of nick knacks.   
My attention was captured as Mark pulled clothes from the dresser beside the door. He tossed an outfit at me, before speaking.

"We should get out of this stuff, tomorrow we'll burn it or something. My things might be a tad big, but it should be fine for now--"

When he turned to me I had already tossed the clothes he gave me on the bed and moved to pull his face to mine. All of my emotions pretty much overlapped, as the thought of being free really hit. It wasn't just that we escaped, we were free. We could do what we want, wear what we want, and most importantly, find Sam once this all blows over.

I didn't know how to express my gratitude, let alone anything right now. Without Mark, I'd be still in our cell, probably dead from inmate or guard if I froze like that without him.

At first, he tensed up. But quickly his hands found their way around my waist. It was only a moment though before our lips pulled apart.

"W-what was that--" I shushed him before kissing him again, though the little bit of control I had was gone when he started to back us up to the bed, my knees easily bending at the edge making us fall into the soft covers.

Looks like we had the same thought in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex scene or nah to open the next chapter? Serious question, I feel like I suck at smut, but I feel like I need to practice a bit.


	9. Hopeful Thoughts and A Change of Pace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW WARNING. Okay, /one/ more chapter after this. You guys asked for smut, so here ya go! Its a boring chapter other then that.

Jack moaned loudly, making me cover his mouth with my hand as I slowly thrusted deeper into him. I didn't like how loud we seemed against the metal walls. I wouldn't hear the end of it if Danny and Brian heard.

Jack, was focal. And it was hot as hell. It’d be worth it is they did hear, and we got shit the next morning.

Once I was all the way in, filling the Irishman to the brim, I stayed there, letting him get used to my girth. He squirmed under me.

"Jus' fuck me already," he moaned against my hand, as he began rolling his hips against mine. I groaned in his ear at his words, and began a slow rhythm that matched his hips. To quiet him further I replaced my hand with my lips. We kissed sloppily as we fucked, his hands gripping my back tightly.

We both moaned hotly into each other's mouths, which seemed to quiet him down enough so I could still hear how hot he sounded. Every time he moaned out my name, my speed increased as soon we were fucking like animals. He even started to moan some things in Irish, which somehow made him even hotter. He couldn't help himself, once he felt the warmth in his belly he screamed my name before cumming all over his stomach. Hearing him tossed me over the edge, I came hard into him as his back arched at his orgasm.

I slowly pulled out, before leaning down to clean off his stomach as he came down from his orgasm. The look on his face was perfect. I then collapsed next to him tiredly.

We were both pretty drowsy after our romp of celebration. Jack fit nicely at my side, as he curled into it. The comforter covered up just to our waists, which suited us just fine. I spied Jack’s hips though, and the two eyes sitting on them.

I ran my fingers over them, caressing his hip bones. "What do the eyes mean?" I asked softly, as I felt him adjust his head to look down on our naked bodies and at his exposed hips.

"About a week into being locked up I found an inmate who did tattooing, so I got one done. I got it for Sam, I always looked out for them so an eye.. Just seemed right." He cleared his throat, before cuddling closer to me. "I meant only to get one side, thinking I'd get the other when I get out and see Sam again, but the next day I got notified that Daithi purposely blew the lab, killing himself and the Septic recipe. I went back and get the other side done, for him. Maybe one day I'll get the whites of his made septic-sludge green."

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, before pecking his head. For how often he was mentioned, I wouldn't think Daithi was.. gone.

"I'm.. I'm okay. It's been a while since I got the news, I came to terms with it a while ago, with the tattoo." I let him hide his face in my chest. I didn't want to pry, anyway.

Leaning away from him, I flicked off the bedside lamp and turned to pull him into my arms.

  
  
Knowing Danny, he was just as bad when waking up, 10 at the earliest some days. Oddly I heard him downstairs early, but he and Brian let us lay in late. Jack slept all morning, while I.. drifted. Most the time I was awake enough to just admire him, to just enjoy the calm after the calamity we endured yesterday.

He seemed to get the worst end of it though. Something shocked him into a stupor, like he suddenly wasn't there with me. Honestly, it freaked me out. When the guards opened fire on the inmates, everyone seemed to bum rush back into us, making me grab him by the arm and yank him to safety. It wasn't till we made it past the broken glass of the security doors when he came back to me. Even on the ride to the safe house, he seemed.. Distant. It surprised me when he outright kissed me but.. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it. By the way he kissed me, I knew what he wanted. That's how we ended up fucking like animals till we were exhausted.

About 11 in the morning one of them knocked on the door. I gently shook Jack awake, making him groan. It took him a moment before being awake enough to get up. We did so, getting dressed before walking out and downstairs. Danny, with his massive hair out of his face, was cooking something at the stove while Brian was going through paperwork and forging it on his laptop.

Beside the stack of papers, was bleach kits and hair dye. One bottle of green, one of Pink.

"Hair dye?" Jack questioned Unsurely, looking between them both. Danny smiled over his shoulder.

"You'll look so fab," he commented sassily as he turned back to breakfast.

"It doesn't take much to change someone's face. If we get caught and a witness sees us, they'll only tell about the flamboyant pink hair you'll sport or the green you will." Brian explained, looking up. He pointed at me with his pin as he mentioned the pink, and then Jack green.

We sat as he spoke, on the couch parallel to the one Brian was stationed. Danny, like a pro waiter, balanced all our plates and set them down before collapsing in the recliner with his own plate to dig in. He had made eggs, which seemed just perfect in my book.

Jack seemed to go quiet again, for the most part. Now, it seemed more like social awkwardness, which I sympathized. He seemed to agree silently to dying his hair, knowing it was an idea, anyway. 

"It might be too early to ask, but.. I want to see my son."

Jack spoke around a bite of egg. Danny and Brian both looked at him with a bit of surprise, whether it was surprise from finding that he had a son or surprised at the request, I didn't know.

Brian spoke first. "Well let's get your hair cut and dyed, and at least the basic things forged before you go out searching for him."

Jack nodded in agreement. It was probably his biggest concern, knowing if he could see Sam soon.

* * *

 

Today was definitely a long one. We fed information to Brian as he forged papers, as Danny fiddled with the buzzer behind us. He was getting ready to trim our hair, before bleaching it and dyeing it.

"Ready?"

Mark looked back at his friend. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Oh stop moping, your lovely flowing locks will grow back. Plus they'll be pink!"

I let out a small laugh. Seeing Mark with pink hair couldn't come fast enough. I suppose he could think the same about me, with a box of fluorescent  green in front of me.

I watched quietly as Danny carefully tied up part of Mark’s hair, before buzzing down the rest of it. The sides  and back were quickly gone. The top then was unpinned and trimmed a little.

Then, to me. Danny seemed to not know much about cutting hair, so ended up doing a similar style. Sides buzzed, top kept. My hair wasn't as long as Marks was, so he left my top as it was.

The beaching process could be summed up in one word-- uncomfortable. The bleach itself smelt hazardous, when Danny then covered our hair it started to burn my scalp. It only lasted an hour though, before Mark and I grabbed showers.

I wasn't sure if I was surprised to see that they didn't have just a bathroom, but a shower block like back at the prison. Two walls of separate stalls, all with a cheap, plastic curtain to hide your arse from onlookers. Because Mark and I didn't have to worry about that anymore, we grabbed the first two stalls and got to work on washing out the bleach.

"Where do you think he is?"

I looked over to Mark, as he began to shampoo the blonde tuft he had. I was still bringing relief to my scalp by scrubbing out the bleach with just my hand, while trying my best to keep the hell spawn bleach off the wound at my shoulder. Though now it had scabbed over pretty well, I didn't want to find out what bleach would do to it.

“Who.. Sam?" I gulped lightly, weighing the options. "Well Daithi isn't here to take care of him, and his mother wouldn't take him, I bet, so that leaves CPS? Right?" I reached over and stole his shampoo, seeing as I didn't have any in my stall.   
"Seems like it. He's probably at the local foster care center or something." He replied, before washing out the shampoo. Gotta say, Mark didn't look half bad with blonde hair.

"That'll make it easier to find him, right?" As I lathered, he finished washing his out and looked back to me.

"Hopefully. As long as he wasn't already taken into a foster care home,  we should find him easy."

Hearing that made me feel a bit better. As long as someone didn't take him in already, I can see my son. I finished my shower with a happier mood. The reply I got from Brian sounded like he rather I didn't go chasing after my son. I understand that we're in hiding and all, but what was the point of forging all this paperwork and getting us new IDs if we weren't going to go out into the world.. Eventually.

We came back out and let our hair dry. Just as it did, Danny started on dying our hair. Brian was gone, off getting us faked IDs from a pro at the game. Apparently he was much more than just a physicist professor.

By the time he got back, Mark was bright pink and I was fluorescent green. I could only hope that it dulled down quickly.

After it soaked we went off for another shower, and spent the rest of the day helping Brian out with information to forge. Mark wouldn't stop messing with his hair, which had me staring at him all afternoon. Pink did oddly suit him. I wonder if green did the same for me.

 

I laid in Mark's arms, his hand tracing shapes on my back. It was the end of the day. Brian reassured, once our IDs come in, we can start the search. Mark had already looked up the closest foster care centers, the ones closest to my old home, anyway. Once we could, we planned to start at the closest, and work out way farther out.  
"We'll find him," Mark spoke softly, before I felt his lips at my head. Sometimes, he seemed to be a mind reader.

"I hope so." I said just as soft. "Hopefully soon."

"Yeah, soon. I promise."

I let out a sigh, letting myself relax under his touch. Hopefully we will be able to find Sam soon. Hopefully I can see him, hold him in my arms one last time. And maybe, one day, have him back permanently. Though, that might be just a dream of mine.


	10. Quests Completed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're at the end of the fic! I'm crazy right now, I don't want to stop writing this au. I really, really don't.Thank you so much for joining me in this journey! I couldn't be happier writing for you guys.

I busied myself by picking a flannel from Mark's wardrobe, not having much choice in my own clothes. Good thing Mark was close enough to my size that he didn't feel too strange. It helped that his clothes smelt like him, his cologne or just it normal.. Smell. Odd as it was, it was comforting. The black and grey flannel wrapped around me like a reassuring hug, just before Mark's actual arms found his way around me.

"How do you feel?" He asked, holding his arms around my middle.

"Nervous, definitely." I admitted, Turing in his arms. He was comforting. Mark went from just my cell mate to a person I felt like I couldn't live without. There was no real label on them, they were just here. In each other's arms. And I was fine with it.

"Well we're gonna find them. I promise." Mark reassured, before giving him a soft  kiss. He tasted sharply like mint, from just brushing his teeth.

"Alright, alright." I gave in, as he pulled away. Mark had a look in his eyes, that was more than reassuring. For a moment, I felt like we'd really find him. For a moment, doubt fled my mind.

We left what Mark dubbed 'our' room, since we both slept and dressed there as if it was ours. We came downstairs, finding Danny asleep or on his way there in the couch as Brian sipped at coffee, reading the paper. Sometimes the safe house that grew to be home felt domestic and normal. Other times it felt as prison like as where they escaped from.

"Hey you two," Brian greeted, pointing to the coffee pot with his elbow before going back to lean on the counter of the open kitchen. "Fresh pot if you're interested."  
"We're good. We're actually off to adoption-hunt for Sam." I replied, snagging my trainers from under the coffee table. Danny seemed to be completely out on the couch, his massive hair hiding his face from any onlookers.

"That's today? Shit okay, one minute." Brian then darted over the the stairs and up them, to the room Brian and Danny claimed. He came back a moment later with cards.  
"Finally got your licenses fully.. Faked. Looks as legit as the real thing."

"Thanks." Mark replied, taking our cards from the older man.

"Stay inconspicuous, alright guys? Good luck on finding Sam."

Sam was a common conversation after I mentioned him a week or two ago. Danny seemed to be pretty interested in hearing how it was like to be head of a drug dealership, which commonly led to me mentioning Sam in some way. How Sam was asleep in the car as my goonies protected our car from a surprise attack from some other guy in the business. How I had to expertly slide to the front seat and drive us out of the face of danger. Hell, I even shot a man to keep Sam safe.

That, I didn't mention.

Not to Brian and Danny, anyways. Mark and I talked often as we crawled into bed, till we could barely keep our eyes open. He told me about his adventures with Danny, about expertly sneaking into mansions and giving what they didn't need to homeless shelters or charity organizations. I, shared why I was convinced of murder.

"You were protecting Sam?" He had asked, as he drew shapes on my shoulder. Our foreheads had been pressed together.

"The last time I saw him wasn't the first time he had seen a gun, and had it pointed at his head. He was my son, of course he was a target to hurt so someone could get to me. It would have worked too, I probably would have handed over the recipe to Septic if that means he could stay safe."

"I'm guessing this someone wanted to know the recipe."

"He was some druggie who wanted to make his own Septic. Apparently one of the runners wouldn't hand it over because he didn’t have the cash and the guy went crazy, somehow got past my goons and took Sam hostage as we were in the warehouse we lived in before the home. He was only two, and was terrified out of his mind." I had explained, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I didn't even think, I spat out the rough ingredients of the recipe to this guy, and the moment the gun was away from Sam’s head I rushed forward and ripped the gun from his hands. Sam fell, broke his arm on the concrete. A bubble of anger came over me, and I pulled the trigger. I saw the glimpse of a knife before he fell, so it still would have been self defense."

I paused, feeling Mark's hands at my wrists. I had apparently tightened my grip on Mark's shirt as I spoke.

"The guards had found us, and I let them deal with the body. I immediately fell to my knees and made sure Sam was okay. He was hysterical, sobbing in fear and in pain, but he was okay. He wouldn't sleep anywhere else but with me for weeks after we got his arm checked. "

I retorted into silence as we finished getting ready and climbed into the van.

The ride was quiet, too. The radio buzzed quietly as Mark followed the directions from the GPS. A sudden ball of anxiety rose into my throat as we drove closer to our first location. We finally found the building too soon.

It was a three story building that looked like an apartment complex, with Windows evenly spread for each room, as it seemed. Larger Windows lined the bottom floor. On the side, seemed to be an empty lot converted to a playground sort of area. Metal fence lined that faced the street, while brick squared off the rest of the area. From here, I could see kids running around  and swinging on the swings, a few kids crawling on the jungle gym that stood on the far side of the playground. What if Sam wasn't here? What if he had already been picked up by a foster family?  

"C’mon, Jack."

I was still sitting in the van, watching out the window at the building, the sign labeled Miss. Jude's Home For The Left Behind suddenly apparent. Mark was tugging on my hand gently, before I looked at him. Like me, he had his hood up, hiding his face from anyone but who was in front of him, me. I slipped out of the van, hearing him speak again.  
"We'll find him. If he's here, he'll most likely be here." He reassured.

I nodded softly. "Yer right."

We went on our way in, seeing a handful of older kids, preteens, in the first room. I turned with Mark to what had to be the front desk, where a woman smiled at us.   
"How can I help you two?"

"Hi, we were thinking about adopting, we just wanted a look around." Mark replied. She nodded at her words, before getting our names and giving us visitor passes so we could get back to the kids.

"Any particular age group?"  
Mark looked at me, letting me reply. "Uh, 3-4 year olds."

She nodded, and led us to an outside play area. There, there were a range of kids that were all younger than ten, it seemed like. Some teens sat on the short, brick wall lining the area. The woman leading us left to go yell at them.

I looked around, looking at every kids face that looked to be in the age range. He wasn't here. I'd recognize him a mile away- he wasn't here.  
"See him?" Mark mumbled into my ear.

"Mark, he's not here," I mumbled back, double checking all the little, red cheeked faces. Sam wasn't here.

The woman walked back, as she stuffed a pack of cigarettes in her pocket, probably confiscated from the teens.

"See anyone that looks perfect to complete your family?" She asked sweetly. I let Mark reply.

"Uh, well possibly. We have a few other adoption centers in la we plan to go to, give everyone a chance, you know?"

She rose an eyebrow but nodded again. "Well I do hope you find a lucky child to take home. Let's sign you out, shall we?" You could tell that she was trying to word her sentences in a certain way. It still sounded like she was describing adopting a puppy.

We started to follow her back, passing two stairwells up to a second floor.

"Charizard is boring, Scyther is the best Pokemon."

I froze. Whatever little kid who was up the stairs was Irish, with a voice I recognized immediately. I stepped away from Mark, and started up the stairs.

"Ja-" he stopped himself, not wanting to say my real name in front of the woman. I ignored him, as I turned the corner on the stairs. At the top of the stairs, were two kids playing with Pokemon cards. The blonde kid hopped up and ran down the hall, as if he thought he was gunna get in trouble. Across from him, was a fawn haired boy who was rubbing his shoulder softly.

"Sam?" He looked down the short set of stairs to me, his blue eyes already looking watery before they widened.

"Daddy!"

He jumped up and ran down the few stairs before throwing his arms around my neck. His legs wrapped around my side as I clasped around him, his head automatically hiding in my shoulder.

"Jack I don't think we're--" Mark stopped himself as he ran up the first set of stairs, spotting me.

I knelled, setting Sam down on his feet. His arms were still latched around my neck, making me let out a little laugh.

"I missed you, buddy," I said, which made him let go.

"They said I wouldn' be able to see you again," he replied, a grin on his face. "You have green hair!" He then reached up and messed with the green tuft of hair that was poking from the hood.

"I know, yeah," I bit my lip, a grin matching his on my face as well. He was fine. We was just as loud and hyper as he was before.

"Why do you have green hair? Do we get to go home? Why were you gone for so long?" His eyes found Mark, who was on the staircase next to us. "Who's he?"

Mark let out a soft laugh. "He's just like you."

I bit my lip softly. Like always he was full of questions, questions he deserved answers to. "Listen Sammy, there's not really a home to go to. I don't know when I'd be able to-"  
"I might have a way," Mark spoke up, before pulling out his disposable phone. He turned to step down the stairwell. Giving Sam's shoulder a pat I silently told him to stay while I skipped steps to Mark.

"Have a way for what Mark?" I furrowed my eyebrows at him. The safe house? It wouldn't for a second pass the Adoption Centers house code.

"You want to have him back right?" He pressed the phone to his chest. "Right?"

"Well o'course, but-"

"Then trust me, okay Jack?" He searched my eyes for a second. I do trust him. But getting Sam back.. It'll be difficult. Tricky. I'd do it after all of this blows over.

"Danny? Yeah, I wanted to ask about the apartment on fifth. We still own it, right?"

I could faintly hear Danny on the other end. "Good. Yeah. We'll see you in a little bit. Bye."

As Mark hung up, I felt a tug on my hand. Sam leaned from the bottom step of the higher staircase, to reach out for my hand.

"Are we gonna be able to go home?" He asked again.

I turned back and squatted down to his level. "Hopefully, Sammy. Hopefully soon."

"By the end of the week, at the latest, little guy." Sam looked up to Mark and gave a little nod, before looking back to me. "Talking about, let's talk to the woman who led us around and see how soon we can."

At his words, Sam jumped to throw his arms around my neck, latching onto me.

"Don't go!" He mumbled to me, hugging me tightly. My breath caught, his words caught me off guard.

"I'll meet you downstairs, okay?" I said up to Mark.

Mark nodded, and I turned my attention to the clinging little boy hanging off me. I hugged back, honestly wanting to pick him up and take him home right here, right now.  
"I know buddy I know," I mumbled, closing my eyes for a moment as he gripped my shirt. Feeling him in my arms again, gripping my neck, not wanting to let go, it made my eyes water.

"You'll come back, right?" He pulled away enough  to see my face. His eyes were watery again, just like mine.

"Of course. I promise you, I'm gonna come back no matter what." I replied, biting my lip. He nodded haphazardly, though he still looked like he was on the verge of tears.   
He still didn't want me to go but after a few minutes of reassuring I kissed the side of his head and told him one last time that I'll be back. I felt like I was leaving him on the side of the street with the look he had, and I didn't like it one bit. I did step down the stairs though, leaving him to plop sadly on the last step of the stairs. Wiping my eyes I found Mark leaning on the reception desk.

"You both seem like wonderful parents for him. Of course we'll have to do some checks to make sure, can I get your home address, Mr Maeng?"

I almost forgot that Mark took his grandmother's maiden name as his new one. I almost forgot that he was bloody half Korean.

Mark rattled off some address I didn't know, and she wrote it down. Saying she could have someone out as early as later today, we took it.

Mark wrapped his arm around me as we walked back to the van. It probably shown, I didn't want to leave Sam here for another night. I'd have to though, if I was his real father or not.

"So you have an apartment." I asked, as we got into the van. My voice was rough from holding back tears.

"Had. It was one of the places we, Dan and I, stayed till we got the warehouse. We kinda use it, mostly for storage. " he buckled up and we started on what I guess was the way to the apartment. "We should be able to clean it up and make it look like we live there, easy."

I took Mark's word for it. We made it to the apartment and he led me up, to a nice looking two bedroom apartment. We first walked into a living room bare of gaming systems or DVRs that were there previously. The tv was still there on the middle of a tv stand/bookshelf hybrid. It seemed though that it had less books and more nick knacks in the shelves.

Everything had a even coat of dust on it, like no one had bothered turning on the tv or even sitting at the couch for a while. A archway led to the kitchen, where a handful of boxes sat on a dining table. We got going on moving the boxes to the utility closet beside the unused cleaning tools. Most stores easily out of the way, others were left out for us to quickly set up. One box, had an old DVR and a handful of remotes. Letting Mark figure out what was what, I wet an old shirt of theirs and went around 'dusting' everything. The faux leather couch, the plywood shelves, the dining table and counters. I found a handful of plastic dishes in a leftover box and filled the dish drain as if we had been using them. I then left to put the boxes that didn't fit in the closet and took them to one of the bedrooms to put them in that closet. In there, was a handful of shirts and jeans that Mark or Danny decided not to take with them.

It was odd to imagine Mark in a domestic place like this. I couldn’t imagine him sitting and watching tv, or playing Dark Souls all night like he claimed to do. I couldn't imagine him making a bowl of cereal, I couldn't imagine Mark being domestic. The warehouse was so similar to where Sam and I lived before that I just knew it wasn’t a home. Yeah, Danny and Brian had fitted the place to be more homey, and it was nicer than I could imagine a warehouse could be.

I suppose it wasn’t that difficult. I had watched Mark pour a bowl of cereal. I sat beside Mark as he browsed the internet, finding the locations of the adoption centers in the city. Maybe it just took some getting used to. For the last handful of months home was a cold, cramped cell. Anything domestic seemed too foreign for my liking.

I found myself finding bedspreads in one of the boxes we put away, before I started putting sheets and comforters over the bare mattresses in the bedrooms. As I packed pillows in their cases, I heard the TV come to life in the other room. Mark flipped threw a few channels, before leaving it on what sounded like New Girl.

“I feel like I want to murder someone, but also, I want some soft pretzels.”

I could hear Mark stifle a giggle as he came up the hall. I did smile to myself, as I turned to the door.

“Well you’ve been making this place more homey,” He commented playfully, giving me a smile.

“That’s the point right? Make it look like we live here?” I replied, before nabbing the second comforter set from the floor. The other bedroom needed dressing.

“I never took you as the homey type,” he commented, mostly to himself as I passed him. “Making beds, dusting things, etc. Or I don't know.  I guess it would be too early to make judgement.”

I rolled my eyes, glancing at him over my shoulder.

“I wouldn't say I’m the ‘homey’ type, if that's how you’d say it. I was never good at home making. I guess I did like some of the simple things. Folding laundry. Making beds. Doing a sequence of things over and over again.”

“Maybe you are the homey type.” Mark chuckled lightly, before I felt his soft lips at my cheek. “I guess I’m the same way. Danny used to be so bad at taking care of himself. It took forever to ween him off lean cuisine meals and Hulu. I think the only reason why I know how to cook a handful of things is because I couldn't stand living like that with him.”

I let out a little laugh. Danny was pretty laid back, I can see him being a lay about, probably playing Zelda all day, surrounded by empty microwave meals. I guess we all were a little like that at some point.

I lifted the comforter, getting a gust of air fly underneath to mostly flattened out the blue and grey square pattern before straightening it out. Maybe it will be easier to get used to the more domestic setting. It helped that when an inspector arrived an hour later, and we had to act like a couple. explain that one room was to be Sam’s room, currently just a spare. there was lots of arms around waists, sneaky kisses behind his back, and lots of smiles. I think Mark was having fun with the idea of being a domestic couple.

We didn’t know of we passed the inspection. He said to come in tomorrow morning to see if we did, and hopefully start filling out the paperwork for adoption. it was a relief to see him leave. Honestly, he didn't seem to find anything he didn't like. We explained the lack of anything for a toddler for the reason that we didn't know what gender or if we were going to adopt as of today, that we would prepare once it was more set in stone. the guy seemed to buy it fine.

“Thank you,” I said, breaking the silence we made as we undressed for bed we had returned to the not-so-homey warehouse. Mark looked over at me as he slipped his shirt off.

Mine was already unbuttoned and in the hamper. The slash at my shoulder now sealed thickly with a scab. It was definitely going to scar over, eventually.

“What for?” He asked softly, before turning out the lamp beside the bed.

“For doing this. All of it. From breaking out with me to helping get Sam back. I owe you so much,” I replied, as we crawled into bed. Like puzzle pieces we tangled together.

“You don't owe me anything,” He started with. “I wanted to help, Jack, that's just who I am. It doesn't help that you’re special, I’d do anything for you.”

“I’m special?” I blinked curiously as Mark smiled, setting a free hand on my cheek.

“Very. unbelievably so. More and more by the second.”

I laughed lightly, he seemed to ramble off a little, finding the best way to show it. I just quieted him with a kiss, after I rolled up so lay on top of him.

I felt him chuckle from underneath me, as he wrapped his arms around my waist. This was nice. Maybe this was our version of the domestic life. Almost heartfelt comments and tumbling around in bed, this I could live with. How Mark and I fit together like two lopsided puzzle pieces, sometimes we were all edges and sometimes showing each other our softest spots. He was the only person I could be honest with, since Daithi. I felt normal. I felt like myself. He was the person who I leaned on, and I was his person to lean on. This is what I wanted, him.

And I soon realized I wanted him for the rest of my life.

 


	11. Epilogue

Hectic.

I watched as Mark leaned over the counter to wipe apple sauce off Sam’s cheek, as Chica, the Golden Retriever we adopted, squished under his legs to see what was going on. Sam joined me in giggling at him. His adorable face. I couldn’t help it, I ruffled Sam’s hair and gave him a kiss on the head. Applesauce was just a little bit everywhere, now on Mark’s nose as Sam sillily tapped his nose with the little spoon. There it was- Mark’s contagious laugh that I fell in love with.

Hectic, but I loved it.

Mark quickly became a second father to Sam. That worked perfectly when I popped the question last month, just before Sam’s fourth birthday. By that point we had found a home that was suitable for us. Not too fancy, not too simple. The perfect balance between child-friendly and a decent sized back yard, with a pool.

Apparently Brian had taken Mark’s place in being the modern Robin Hood. Mark didn’t mind, he was more than willing to stay with us, Sam and I. I was more then happy to let him. And of course, so was Sam.

He usually wasn’t one to warm up to anybody. Daithi was an exception, he grew up with him like an uncle. At first, I didn't know if Sam would like him at all. It started with stupid puns, and now it was singing _“Can You Feel The Love Tonight”_ at the top of their lungs as they danced around our living room.

I don’t think I could be more in love with another person. Mark was infectious, it was hard to be in a bad mood around him. especially when I added our beautiful son. Sometimes I didn’t know how much I was smiling till I was lying in bed and I was dosing off. My cheeks hurt, but always in a good way.

I looked up from the laptop screen I had been blankly staring at, lost in my thoughts, to see Mark on the couch next to the armchair I was lounging in with Sam laying on his chest, fast asleep. Dinner was over, mess cleaned and hectic life had calmed down, now we had sat down for a movie before bed. I slid the laptop onto the coffee table and kneeled on the carpet beside Mark. HIs eyes were closed, probably just as asleep as Sammy. I slowly  pushed my fingers through the floof that stood out from the couch cushion. It was blue, this time around.

My hand drifted to his cheek, as I caressed it gently. He barely stirred, more movement coming from Sam as he nuzzled into Mark’s chest.

“ _I love you_ ,” I mumbled to him quietly, as I set my palm on his cheek fully.

“I love you too,” He replied sleepily, a lazy smile coming to his face.

“Did I wake you?”  

He shook his head slowly. “I’ve been dosing. Sammy’s a comfy, warm cuddle-bug. He gets that from you.”

I bit my lip to keep from smiling bigger.

“Bed?”

“Bed.”

I went to put Sam to bed, who was asleep like a rock by the time he got into his actual bed.  He was absolutely precious, snoring almost silently because his nose was pressed against the pillow. I stood at the doorway, leaning my head on the doorframe as I watched him sleep. Definitely would be creepy if anyone else but his father was doing so.

A hand found my side as Mark pecked the side of my face. Seeing his warm eyes in the light from the hallway was all to perfectly familiar. Please, let this be the rest of my life. Please freeze this moment forever. I really, really couldn't ask for a better life to have built. ✿

 


End file.
